Chapter 14 #3
“That’s a thought I’ve had. But whenever I bring it up with Simon, he keeps shutting it down.”
Cam didn’t say anything, just waited him out. Because yeah, there was more, and somehow Cam had guessed it. Dawson didn’t know how; he was only grateful he had.
“It makes me feel like there’s something else he’s not saying,” Dawson continued.
“Like he’s hiding something. I’ve worked like hell to not go around being paranoid that everyone’s gonna let me down.
That everyone’s gonna do something shitty.
To let go of the belief that I’m an easy mark, ready and willing to be taken advantage of.
And this makes me think of that, all over again. But it might just be me. I don’t know.”
Cam just squeezed his knee again. Tipped his head against Dawson’s shoulder.
There was something in the way that felt; like Cam didn’t believe even though Dawson had admitted to all these doubts and flaws, that he’d struggle to hold on to Cam.
Like Cam would trust that he’d hold him up, both literally and figuratively.
It made him feel less like a weak, clueless idiot.
Maybe Cam didn’t even know what that did, but Dawson was beginning to think that it didn’t matter if he realized it, only that he was doing it.
“What if it’s not just you?” Cam asked softly. “And even if it is, it’s a justifiable fear, Daws. You got let down by someone you trusted. Simon should understand that, and he should be going the extra mile to reassure you, not close down communication.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I still think you should reach out to the prosecutor yourself. If you don’t set these fears to rest, you won’t be able to move on.”
“You don’t think it’d be overstepping?”
“If it is, then it’s your right to do that,” Cam said firmly.
Dawson let out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. Of course, I worry this is going to fuck me all over again. I’ve just gotten my feet under me here. Doing good. Maybe Simon’s right that it’s just a distraction.”
“And you worrying about it isn’t a distraction?” Cam raised an eyebrow.
Dawson hadn’t really thought of it that way, but that was a good point. “Fair.”
“I think if you don’t set your mind at ease—make sure this feeling you have is just a feeling, and that’s all it is—you’re not going to be able to make a decision, and move forward, either way,” Cam said.
Dawson sighed. “How did you get so smart, rook?”
Cam’s cheeks flushed an appealing pink. And Dawson realized that he’d done it again.
Just being here with him, talking it out, had pulled all that awful, peace-shattering poison right out of him.
Suddenly, he was aware again that they were on the edge of the bed and Cam was just showered, hair drying rumpled from Dawson’s hands earlier.
“Grateful you are,” Dawson murmured and leaned in, and he supposed at some point he should stop being so surprised that it was so easy between them.
That it felt natural to press their lips together.
Not necessarily because he wanted to start something—though if he was being honest, he kinda did—but because it felt right to do it.
Cam opened underneath his mouth, groaning in the back of his throat as Dawson deepened the kiss.
He couldn’t help himself, tucking his fingers underneath Cam’s T-shirt, pulling it off, enjoying the feel of his bare skin as he went. “God, you feel good,” Dawson murmured under his breath. Not sure if he was saying it for Cam or for himself.
It felt even more natural to give Cam one last kiss, their tongues tangling together, and then slide down to the floor, pulling Cam’s sweatpants off as he went.
“You don’t—”
But instead of letting him finish, Dawson pressed his mouth against Cam’s inner thigh. Enjoyed as Cam let out a shaky gasp of approval, his cock twitching.
No, he didn’t have to. He wanted to. He wanted to give back a little of the peace and pleasure he kept discovering in Cam’s arms. In his bed. On his couch.
With that in mind, he leaned in, licking up the length of Cam’s cock. Enjoying the way he trembled above him. How his fingers dug into the comforter. The tension in his jaw.
It had been a while since he’d sucked dick—at least the length of his marriage to Brynn, and a year or two before that—but he’d forgotten how good it felt, even for him.
How much he loved having his partner’s pleasure in his hands.
Oral sex in general was something he enjoyed, but Dawson didn’t think he’d ever felt this insane about it before, like he wanted more and more, until Cam was filling up his mouth with his come.
Cam’s hands dug into his hair, and he groaned above him as Dawson took him deeper.
He had to be a little careful. Definitely more careful than he wanted to be.
But he didn’t want to choke and die, either.
Not when it was this good, and his own dick was so aroused that he didn’t think it would take more than the pressure of his hand to lose his self-control entirely.
It was a little slow going, needing to remember all his tricks, but he was slowly beginning to pick them up again.
And learn more too. That curling his tongue around the head made Cam choke out a moan.
All the places he was especially sensitive.
The way he shook when Dawson cupped his balls and with a spit-slick thumb, slid behind them, pressing into his hole.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—” Cam broke off as Dawson sucked harder, wanting it all. “God, feels so good, babe.”
Dawson shuddered at the pet name. Hadn’t thought he’d like it, but he liked everything with Cam.
Barely got his hand on his own cock as Cam began to shake, come spurting down his throat. He was right; it didn’t take long.
One or two strokes and the right kind of pressure and he was coming in his shorts.
Panting, he slumped the rest of the way down to the floor. Cam’s hands were still tangled in his hair. Gentle now, brushing it away from his forehead.
“Damn,” Cam murmured. “That was hot as hell.”
Dawson cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, I was probably a little out of practice.”
“Couldn’t tell.” Cam’s smile was so bright it was hard to look at, but Dawson did it anyway, gazing up at him.
He was probably going to regret coming in his shorts in about five seconds, but for right now, Dawson decided he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he hadn’t slept naked with Cam before.
Truthfully, he was pretty sure it was even better that way.
“You feel better now?” Cam asked, looking like he knew the answer to that question.
Dawson sighed. “Yeah. I do, actually. Except for you know . . .” He waved at his crotch. “The whole making a mess like a teenager thing.”
“Bet you were a cute teenager.” Cam’s dimple popped, he was smiling so hard.
“Not as cute as I am now,” Dawson teased. He took Cam’s outstretched hand and flopped down next to him on the bed. He should go get cleaned up, but in a minute. This was too nice to not enjoy, especially when Cam’s knee bumped Dawson’s and then didn’t move away.
“You’re magic,” Dawson murmured, glancing over at him and the words coming out before he could stop them. He was sure he’d have to explain himself, but Cam didn’t ask. His smile just softened, eyes glued to Dawson’s face, like he couldn’t look away.
As much as he tried to pack up last night’s conversation with Simon and put it away until after the game, the thoughts lingered in Dawson’s mind.
He turned over what he’d said to Cam and what Cam had suggested he do as he ate breakfast. As he took the bus over to the stadium.
As he got ready for warmups.
“You’re quiet,” Marty said as he headed onto the field with the rest of the special teams group.
“Focused,” Dawson said, even though he wasn’t sure that was what it was.
But he didn’t want to let the distraction in.
Didn’t want to vocalize it, because what if he was right, and it fucked him up?
He couldn’t go through that again. Especially not now when he was beginning to really feel like Toronto was a great place.
The winning was nice, no question about that, but the way the team was coming together was the real bonus.
And then there was Cameron.
Dawson had never expected he’d find something so good with the rookie, but it was hard to deny just how much he was enjoying it. Best hookup he’d ever had, hands down.
Marty raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s good.”
“I’m always focused,” Dawson argued.
“Then why are you so quiet about it today?”
Dawson didn’t want Marty picking at the scabbed-over wound. He wanted to ignore it, especially until after this game was over. The Thunder had won five straight games to open the season and the sixth was riding on the line, today. Marty should know that and leave him the fuck alone.
Cam mostly had. They’d shared a few murmured thoughts this morning—general chitchat about the game and the city and the choices on the buffet spread—but Cam had seemed to sense that he still had the Ackerman situation on his mind and had mostly left him alone to pack it all up and put it away before the game.
Dawson let out a frustrated noise. “I don’t know, I just am, okay?”
Marty shot him a knowing look. Chomping at the omnipresent ball of gum in between his teeth. “Just checking in.”
“Well, I’m good.”
Marty didn’t look convinced, which was additionally annoying. “I’m dialed,” Dawson added. “Locked the fuck in.”
“What’s that phrase that old English guy liked to use? You protesting too much, Hall?”
“No,” Dawson complained. “And that’s fucking Shakespeare, you heathen.”
“Yep, that’s the guy,” Marty said cheerfully.
Dawson rolled his eyes and didn’t stomp off, though he was fairly tempted to do it. But if he had, Marty would’ve figured out he was annoyed. Might’ve figured out that he wasn’t as locked in as he wanted to be.
He went through his warmups and all his progressions. Everything felt fine, but there was still a persistently annoying worry in the back of his head that he’d head out to kick a field goal in the middle of a game and everything would hit him at once.
He’d never frozen before. Not once. Not even during the worst of his meltdown last year. But it was always there, hovering as an awful possibility in the back of his mind. Usually easier to ignore, but persistent nevertheless.
Cam wandered over in his direction after the kickoff.
“Hey,” he said, but even though that was what he said, Dawson knew what he’d meant. Are you okay? was written, plain as day, all over Cam’s face.
He grimaced. “I’m good, yeah?”
Cam shot him an unimpressed look. “I didn’t ask if you were okay. Obviously you’re okay.”
Dawson didn’t even get a second to reiterate that of course he was okay, because Cam continued. “Are you not okay?”
“I’m fine,” Dawson ground out. “Just . . .there’s nothing wrong. I don’t know Simon isn’t on my side, but . . .”
There’d been a time when any kind of sympathy grated. Felt worse than if everyone just ignored what was happening. But Cam’s didn’t bother him the same way. Maybe because he knew it went more than skin-deep.
“You don’t know, but you’re going to find out,” Cam said.
“And even if it’s true? Even if maybe Simon’s got an alternate agenda he didn’t tell you about?
That doesn’t change anything about you, or what you’re capable of.
You’re still Dawson Hall. First ballot Hall of Famer.
As a kicker. Fucking extraordinary. You’ve got the skill. Nobody ever doubts that. Just you.”
Dawson didn’t know what to say, but fucking extraordinary kept echoing in his head. He managed a nod.
“We don’t worry about you, not for a second,” Cam said and patted his shoulder. “Remember that, okay?”
It was going to be tough for Dawson to forget it now. Especially when he thought of last season, of the Baltimore players tiptoeing around him like they were afraid to even meet his eyes, because what if he fucking missed another field goal and it was their fault?
But Cam was right; nobody was doing that here. Nobody had shirked away from him when he’d missed that field goal two games ago. They’d just clapped him on the back and said, easy, like it meant nothing, even though it meant everything, that he’d nail the next one.
As the game unfolded, Dawson realized he was actually excited to get out there and prove to the guys—and to himself—that it was true. He wanted to remind everyone that he was Dawson Hall, one of the best kickers in the NFL.
But of course, that isn’t what happened.
He kicked an extra point. And then another. And then another.
Aidan and the offense were rolling, one touchdown after another. Dawson looked up at the scoreboard as the third quarter wound to a close, realizing the score was forty-two to seven, and there was almost no chance he’d be kicking a field goal in this game.
Six extra points, sure, but those were so routine Dawson barely had to think about them. Especially when that was all he was doing.
“Damn,” Cam said as the fourth quarter ticked away, Jaden getting handoff after handoff, the Thunder only trying to eat clock to end this game sooner rather than later.
“Is it crazy that I’m a little disappointed?” Dawson asked under his breath.
“That you didn’t get to kick today? You kicked six extra points, Daws.”
“Not the same, and you know it. Especially when it’s a five-score game.”
Cam shrugged. “True.” Then he shot Dawson a bright grin. “But you’re gonna get them next time.”
For a split second, he nearly said, Hope so, but then realized that was offering the possibility that he might not some much-needed wiggle room. Not allowing it a foothold in his mind, but enough of a gap that it could find a way in.
But he was done with that.
“Yeah,” he agreed instead, “I am.”